I fought the reflex to cringe as I saw a cockroach run across the table in a room with 10 hospital beds filled with old women. I concentrated on the woman’s face, not her surroundings as she showed us the beautiful doilies she was knitting in order to make a little bit of money to pay for medicines that were not available in this home for the elderly. Her right hand was no longer nimble because of arthritis, so she taught herself to knit with her left hand. My doctor friend and I bought two of her doilies, gave her a hug and moved on to the next room.
Our doctor friend, Verica, had invited me to visit a home for elderly Bosnian refugees. I had been shocked to hear that there still are Bosnian refugees here, as we had been told, that, when the refugee camps here closed down, everyone was either brought back home or to other camps in different parts of Croatia. We had no idea that these people were literally stuck here, most without any legal papers, just basically waiting to die.
My friend tried to prepare me for the squalid conditions there, but still, I was not prepared for what I saw. On the first floor of this old building were the four rooms with patients that were pretty much bedridden. Each room had ten hospital beds, most of them filled with old, sad patients. The smell was stuffy and musty, the walls cracked and peeling paint. Tears sprung to my eyes as the old women told me that no one ever came to visit them. Some had families elsewhere, but were not able or willing to make the trip here. Others simply stated, “I have no one.”
As I walked from room to room, visiting the bedridden and then those that are able to get up and about, several people asked to have their photo taken. I’m not sure why, maybe just as a way of asking me not to forget about them, too. As we sat for coffee with the head nurse and others of the staff, we were told what their most immediate needs are, among others, sheets, bedding, and diapers for the bedridden. We had brought 200 pieces of clothing that we had received from beneficiaries around here. They were especially thankful for the warm sweaters, coats and other needed winter clothes. We arranged to come back with a show for the whole home, as we are getting our Christmas program into full gear. The home they are now staying in does not meet their needs properly, so they will be moving into a new house built by the government.
As I left that dreary place that day, my mind churned with ideas of how to best supply the need these old people seem to have least—love. When I got home, the girls eagerly agreed that they should help too, and we will be considering ways to be able to visit more.
